


Comrade, Friend

by CrowleyLovesUSUK



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Hugs, Loneliness, M/M, Male Friendship, Men Crying, Sushi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3536867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowleyLovesUSUK/pseuds/CrowleyLovesUSUK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russia isn't as intimidating and scary as the other nations assume. He is just very lonely and doesn't know how to make real friends. After a meeting, America walks in on the imposing nation crying and extends a friendly hand to a man he considered an enemy. Can a true friendship blossom between these two unlikely nations? Friendship, mentions of USUK and Gerita</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comrade, Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Friendship/Hurt/Comfort. One-shot. Just a little idea I had thinking about Russia and how he seems so scary and whatnot but he’s really just a big cuddle bear sweetie. And I do think that Russia and America could be friends if they tried. Russia and America Friendship. Friendship as in platonic buddies who play video games and chill and whatever the fuck it is that Dude Friends do together…just so you aren’t all surprised and going “but whyyyyyy aren’t they doing it”…that would be because America is with England in this—(USUK/UKUS baby) and the Hero doesn’t cheat. Japan and America platonic friendship as well.  
> Mentions of established USUK/UKUS (romantic), mention of GerIta (possible romantic/possible super close friendship), Mentions of Russia having a crush on another nation—not mentioned who so you can decide in your mind (In my mind its China—I think RoChu is super cute)  
> This is my first time really writing Russia other than a few one-liners in previous stories, so apologies if it sucks. And apologies for any OOC-ness. Rated T for mentions of boys love and some swearing.  
> And yes, I know that “Comrade, Friend” is “Friend, Friend.”  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia (if I did, then England would wear only boxer briefs all the time.) I also do not own the Cheshire Cat, or ‘Married With Children’ or anything advertised on late-night infomercials.

     It was always something of a stampede to leave the meeting room after a conference. Some nations, such as England, hung back to gather their paperwork, glaring at their fellow countries; but most made a mad dash toward the door in order to get dinner or call their bosses, or engage in some ‘good old-fashioned’ relaxation with another willing nation. Within moments, the conference room had emptied out with the exception of only a few straggling countries who were leisurely strolling toward the door.  
     

     America and Japan were walking together and talking animatedly, the young blonde reaching the door first and holding it open for his friend with a smile. Alfred turned to look behind them at England who was snapping his briefcase shut. “Hey babe,” he said, addressing the small British nation. “Kiku’s gonna take me to this new sushi place downtown, wanna come?”  
     

      “Yes Mr. Britain, please join us,” Japan turned toward the Englishman. “You would enjoy this venue very much. The sushi is excellent.”  
     

      “Yeah!” America grinned, holding his gloved hand out to England.  
     

     “No thank you love,” England shook his head and smiled at his boyfriend. Turning towards Kiku, Arthur dipped his head slightly in apology, “I am sorry Japan, thank you for the kind invitation. However, I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on. I think I’m just going to order some room service and get to it. I’ll see you later Alfred.”  
     

     America leaned in and kissed England on the cheek, whispering in his ear, “You’re damn straight you will Arthur. Make sure you’re _only_ wearing this tie when I get home.” Winking, Alfred pulled back and used a normal tone of voice to say, “Okay babe, I’ll see you later.” The three nations parted in the lobby—America and Japan heading toward the front door, and England walking toward the concierge desk to order his car brought around.  
     

     Arthur leaned against the desk, watching America and Japan while the man behind the counter called up the limo he shared with Alfred. He was glad that Alfred was so close with Kiku. The diminutive man brought a sense of calm to everything around him and he had done wonders to keep the boisterous American from well, being…so…American. England couldn’t make out quite what Japan had said, but whatever it was caused Alfred to burst into laughter.  
     

     “Your car, sir,” the concierge waved his hand toward the valet entrance.  
     

     “Thank you,” England nodded. He gave his gorgeous blonde boyfriend one more glance before heading out to his waiting vehicle.  
America waved at him as he left.  
    

     Turning toward Kiku, Alfred ran his hand through his blonde hair and laughed loudly at Kiku’s observation about the events of the meeting.  
“I just feel for Germany, ya know,” America stated.  
     

     “He doesn’t seem to realize that Italy is only getting more dependent on him,” Japan agreed softly. “Or,” the dark haired man said quietly, “He doesn’t care.”  
     

     “Yeah,” America smiled, shaking his head. “He’s got a clingy one there.”  
     

     “I hope it wasn’t too forward of me to reprimand Italy when he jumped on Germany’s back like that,” Japan looked uncertainly at his friend.  
     

     “Hell no!” America agreed. “That was hilarious!” Alfred pushed his glasses up on his face and did his best imitation of his friend, “When you said, ‘Italy, you’re foot is dangerously close to Germany’s vital regions,’ and none of them paid any attention to you until Italy kicked Ludwig right in the—“ America wiped away a single tear as he chuckled. “And you just said ‘I told you.’ In that deadpan voice! I thought Germany was going to punch you dude! Oh man, Kiku, you kill me!” Alfred slapped the Japanese man on the shoulder, causing him to practically double over. “See dude, this is why we’re friends.”  
     

     The two nations had made it almost all the way to their destination, which was only a few blocks from their meeting when America stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk and smacked his palm against his forehead.  
     

     “Mr. America?” Japan questioned. “Are you all right?”  
     

     America shook his head, with his eyes closed tight as he let out a frustrated groan, “Dude!” He blew out a breath and looked at Japan with a regrettable expression on his handsome face. “I totally left my stupid paperwork at my seat! Aw, man,” Alfred groaned, “Artie is gonna kill me if I don’t have it and you know the cleaning crew will shred it.”  
     

       Japan nodded once, “Policy,” he agreed with Alfred. “Go on,” he made a slight bow, “I will get our table and order some drinks; you can gather your papers and meet me there.”  
     

     “Really dude!” America grabbed Japan and enveloped him in a large hug before Kiku even knew what had happened.  
     

     “Mr. America,” Japan’s arms began to flail awkwardly. “You are touching me! Please!”  
     

     “Huh?” Alfred looked down and then stepped back in realization. “Oh, sorry dude! I forgot you hate hugs. That’s so weird.” Laughing his signature cackle, America let go of his friend and turned, starting off down the street. “Just get me the same as you—saki right, dude?” America called back as he took off back toward their conference hall as Japan shook his head and continued on toward the restaurant. Alfred was a good friend, but he didn’t care if they had known each other for centuries—Kiku would never get used to the American’s spontaneous hugging. Sometimes friendship was stressful.  
     

     It only took America a few minutes to run back towards the meeting hall and take the elevator to the fourth floor. He padded down the hallway and noticed that most of the lights had been turned off. Good thing he wasn’t scared of the dark—because this was a little freaky. He had a cold feeling in the back of his neck that something was off, he just couldn’t figure out what it could be. As he neared the meeting room, the feeling intensified, causing the superpower to slow his steps as he advanced down the darkened hallway. Reaching the door, he noticed that it was slightly ajar and there was a muffled sound coming from within.  
     

     Alfred stopped short at the heavy oak door, his gloved hand resting on the wooden surface as he leaned in to hear. The unmistakable sound of crying met his hero’s ears. _‘Who would be sitting in our meeting room crying?’_ America thought, frowning. It didn’t really matter who it was to Alfred F. Jones—he was a hero and heroes always helped in times of trouble. Shoving the door open with a bang, he stepped into the room only to be greeted with the last thing that he ever expected to see.  
     

     It was Russia.  
     

     The large blonde man had not moved from his seat after the meeting adjourned; his smooth childlike face buried in his massive arms. America stopped short and simply stared as sobs shook the Russian’s shoulders.  
     

     _‘What. The. Fuck.’_ Alfred couldn’t move from the shock of the sight before him.  
     

     For almost an entire minute, America stood stock still, not sure if he should do anything. It wasn’t as though he and Ivan were each other’s biggest fans—they could hardly be in the same room after the Cold War. After the intense debate in Alfred’s mind, he made the decision he knew was right—a nation was a nation and they were all in this together no matter how they felt about each other.  
     

     Finally, with his better judgment returned, America made a small movement and cleared his throat. Instantly, the Russian’s crying ceased as though someone had flicked a switch. A tense silence filled the conference room as Ivan lifted his head and turned his piercing purple eyes towards Alfred’s blue.  
     

     “America,” Russia stated, his voice, its usual lilt.  
     

     “Russia,” America nodded.  
     

     They continued to watch one another warily, neither wishing to be the first to speak. The tracts of tears streaking down the Russian’s face made America uncomfortable. He had never seen the larger country have _any_ emotion—much less sorrow. Russia always seemed so put together—he never really got involved in arguments; at least not with him or the Europeans. He was always just… _there_. Silent. Blank. Alfred took a single step toward Ivan, who noticeably tensed as the American came closer.  
     

     “What do you want Amerika?” Russia’s voice held nothing. He simply stared at the young blonde in front of him, waiting to see what Alfred would do.  
     

     “Want?” Alfred wrinkled his nose a bit and looked slightly confused. “I just wanted to get my papers.” He pointed toward his usual seat which had an entire stack of the day’s documents spread out across the smooth table, some spilling onto the floor. “You’re the one who was crying, dude.”  
     

     Russia’s purple eyes narrowed when America mentioned his tears. Crying was a weakness. And Ivan was horrified that he had been caught showing anything but strength—especially by that asshole, America. No matter how many years had passed, Ivan was still pissed off about the fifties. America was a cocky little prick and Russia could think of a hundred nations that he would rather be in this situation with—basically everyone except his little sister Belarus. _‘Not that it really matters,’_ thought Russia sadly. _‘No other nation is my friend anyway, so this would be painful either way.’_  
     

     “I was not crying Amerika,” Russia stared into America’s blue eyes.  
     

     “Um,” Alfred took another step toward Ivan looking confused. “Yes you were. I heard you and I saw you cause I was standing here for, like, an hour.”  
     

     “Oh,” Russia’s head bent and his eyes went to the floor. _‘Shit,’_ he thought. He knew Alfred hadn’t been there for an hour—that was impossible, the meeting had only ended twenty minutes ago—however, he knew from the American’s exaggeration that while his timetable was a lie, his eyes were telling the truth; Alfred had watched him and seen him crying. _No one_ had seen Russia cry since he was a small child—and Ivan _knew_ that the only living person who had ever witnessed his tears wouldn’t speak a word—he had taught that mean Teutonic Knight a lesson in respect a long time ago.  
    

     “Dude, are you…okay?” America seemed hesitant to even ask.  
     

     Ivan looked coldly at his former enemy and now reluctant ally. “Yes,” his voice was clipped. “Go away.”  
     

     America snorted and rolled his eyes, something he must have picked up from his boyfriend. Stacking his papers and shoving them rather haphazardly into his bag, he muttered, “Fine, whatever.” He knew that a hero shouldn’t give up on anyone in need, but it was going to take a _lot_ to get _Russia_ to open up to him. He was going to have to try something different. Because to be completely honest, having a country as large and influential as Russia crying alone like the dumped kid at Prom was going to be an issue for _everyone_ at the meeting; and that meant The World. The superpower turned on his heel and walked toward the door without a backward glance.  
     

     Sitting alone at the table, Russia clasped his hands together and remained motionless until he heard the door of the conference room click as America left. He let out a small huff of air, a gesture of relief that he was alone again. Sniffling a bit, he wiped a finger under one of his distinctive eyes and blinked to clear away any lingering tears.  
“It’s of no use,” Russia whispered to himself. “No one will care.”  
     

     From behind him, near the door, a sharp America voice said, “No one will care about what?”  
     

     Whirling around in his chair, his eyes venomous, Ivan saw that Alfred was still standing in the room, leaning against the wall near the exit. He had only pretended to leave, allowing the door to close, making the Russian believe he was alone.  
    

     “You tricked me.” Russia’s violet eyes were wide, his normally cheerful sounding voice low and dangerous.  
     

     “Oh right, like _that’s_ not expected?” America huffed. “Like you weren’t playing dirty with the Cambridge Five? England’s still pissed about that you know.” Narrowing his eyes at Ivan, Alfred pushed off of the wall and walked toward the larger man. “And things that piss off England tend to piss me off too—mostly because I have to hear him bitching about it whenever he’s drunk and happens to forget about the Revolution.”  
     

     Nonchalantly kicking out a chair next to Russia, causing the larger country to jump a bit, America lowered himself down, and slung his arm over the back of the chair, aiming for casual. It didn’t work very well since Ivan tensed at the American’s closeness and leaned somewhat away from Alfred.  
     

     “Seriously dude,” America looked genuinely concerned. “What the hell? Are you okay?”  
     

      Tilting his head suspiciously, Russia looked directly at America and said, “Why would you care Amerika?”  
     

      “Because,” Alfred stated simply. “We’re both countries dude. And I know that you and I aren’t… _friends_ …exactly, but, well, you know.” The blonde American shrugged.  
     

      “I know what?” Russia asked.  
     

     “Are you, like, _trying_ to be difficult?” Alfred wrinkled his nose. He thought for a moment as Ivan simply stared back at him without speaking and decided that, no, Russia wasn’t being difficult; he was just…Russia. “Look, Ivan,” Alfred stumbled a bit over Russia’s human name. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay. Really okay.” America paused for a moment, and then slowly reached out to place his hand on the Russian’s shoulder with a heavy clap. “Things would be a lot better if we _were_ friends—and I’d like to try, you know…being friends. If you want.”  
     

      Ivan lowered his eyes to the smooth wood of the table as they began to prick with tears once again. He honestly didn’t know what to think. This was _America_ after all—the last nation that he would ever expect to reach out a helping hand.  
     

     “I am lonely,” Ivan admitted in a quiet voice, reminiscent of Canada.  
     

     “Lonely?” America questioned.  
     

      “Da,” the Russian nodded sadly. “I am having no friends. No one likes me.”  
     

     “What about your sisters?” Alfred asked. “Or the Baltic States? Aren’t you and China like, sort of buddies?”  
     

      Ivan shook his head in a negative response. “My sisters are closer to others now. And the rest of them are only my friends because they are afraid of me. I don’t know why.” America raised his eyebrows at the Russian’s last statement—those countries were afraid because Russia was _scary_ sometimes! Not noticing Alfred, Ivan continued on, “When someone is your friend because of fear, then they are not really your friends I am thinking.”  
     

      America didn’t quite know how to respond the Russia’s statement. He wasn’t _wrong._ Not many countries _did_ like him. Then again, not many countries like America either. America knew what it was like to feel hated and alone. Unlike Russia though, he still always had England.  
     

      Maybe Alfred hadn’t just been trying to weasel the reason behind Ivan’s sadness out of the Russian—maybe he actually had meant it when he offered friendship. America took a moment to toss the idea around in his brain and decided that it wasn’t a _terrible_ idea. The Cold War was a long time ago and perhaps it was time to let go of the grudge. Besides, England was always getting on his case to ‘put in some effort’ at world meetings. Maybe extending the olive branch to one of his biggest enemies would get him some brownie points with his sexy Brit.  
     

      “You have friends,” America finally spoke with a sigh.  
     

      Watery purple eyes looked up at Alfred. “I do?” Ivan’s voice was small and slightly broken.  
     

     Nodding with determination, America said, “Yeah. Me.” Russia’s only response was to blink at the superpower sitting before him. After a moment America raised his eyebrows, “I’m serious. _Really_ serious.” Still receiving nothing but a blank and somewhat confused look from Ivan, Alfred plowed on. “ _I’ll_ be your friend. We can be friends. And then _my_ friends could be your friends too.” America smiled, “Besides, it’s not like _I’m_ scared of you, right? So then that means that we would be _real_ friends.” Alfred gave Ivan a few moments to think before adding, “So? What do ya say?”  
     

     After a drawn out silence, Russia lifted his head and met America’s eyes. He had a faint smile on his face, one that was not his usual emotionless grin—this was a genuine smile. Nodding, Russia whispered, “I would like a comrade.”  
     

     “Comrade?” America looked confused. “That’s not like a _boyfriend_ , is it? Cause England is _super_ jealous. I’d say ‘No Homo,’ but…you know—I’m _really_ homo.” The American’s laughter ran loudly against the walls of the empty room.  
     

     Shaking his head seriously, Ivan stated. “Comrade is a friend. I would like a friend.”  
     

     “Cool,” America grinned and clapped the Russian hard on the shoulder. “We can be friends.”  
     

     “Besides,” Russia smiled shyly, “You are not the one that I would be liking for a boyfriend.”  
     

      America whistled and gave a Cheshire cat grin, “Really?” He chuckled a bit as Ivan began to blush. “So who is it?” Russia crushed his mouth into a tight line and shook his head vehemently. Not to be deterred, Alfred poked his shoulder and said, ‘Come on! You gotta tell me—friends talk about their crushes you know.”  
     

     When he received nothing but another negative head shake, Alfred just laughed. “You’ll tell me one day.” Glancing at his watch, the blonde American’s eyes shot open.  “Damn, look at the time—Kiku is gonna _freak_! He thought I’d only be gone a few minutes.”  
     

     Ivan quietly watched as Alfred stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Dude, you coming?” America asked.  
     

       “Coming?” Russia blinked.  
     

     “Yeah,” Alfred smiled. “Come eat sushi with me and Japan. You’ll love it!” Holding out his hand to Ivan, Alfred nodded again in encouragement. “Seriously dude. Saki, sushi, and Kiku freaking out when the waitress hits on him—it’s a good time.” Leaning toward Russia, his voice low and in a conspiring fashion, he added, “Friends also eat dinner together.”  
     

     Smiling as he stood, Russia wrapped his favorite warm scarf around his neck and nodded at America. “Dinner sounds good, Amerika.”  
     

     “That’s more like it!” America grinned. “Come on, Comrade Friend.”  
     

     “That just means ‘Friend Friend’ you know,” Russia raised his eyebrows as the two men started toward the door.  
     

     “Okay, come on Friend Friend,” America laughed.  
     

     “You are very strange Amerika,” Russia shook his head a bit, but he smiled as well.  
     

     “Yup,” Alfred agreed wholeheartedly. “It’s cool though dude, being weird helps you do awesome things—like land on the moon!”  
     

     “Maybe discussing the Space Race isn’t the best idea for a friendship beginning,” Ivan smirked. He wasn’t really mad about the moon landing, he’d let Alfred take that one—the poor kid practically lost it with excitement whenever anyone discussed the galaxy, or aliens for that matter.  
     

     “Whoops,” America shrugged somewhat sheepishly. “Whatever dude, I’m sure we can think of other cool stuff to talk about.”  
     

     “Maybe we could be watching some ‘Married With Children,’ yes?” Russia asked hopefully.  
     

     “Al Bundy?” America smiled. “Heck yeah! I think I’ve got some DVDs of that lying around. I haven’t watched that in _forever_ —except that night last month when I couldn’t sleep after the horror movie marathon and England kicked me out of bed and it was the only thing on besides that bacon bowl commercial.” America took a pause in order to catch his breath.  
     

     For the first time that night, Ivan’s eye were not glistening with tears. They were bright with the idea that maybe he _did_ have friends. Perhaps he and America could watch television together and Russia wouldn’t have be so lonely anymore. After all, America and England were a package deal—and America and Japan and Canada were all friends as well. Maybe now Ivan had four new friends who wouldn’t think he was a baby when he was lonely and cried. Friends who would come over and drink vodka and talk about things other than world issues.  
     

       Russia would have never thought that having America find him crying would ever make him so happy.  
     

     “This is sounding nice, Amerika,” Russia’s musical voice rang out.  
     

     “Dude, call me Al. Or Alfred. Whatever,” America’s sunny grin appeared as he held the door open. “Come on, ‘Comrade Friend,’” Alfred joked. “We have an inside joke now! Cool, huh? Anyway, you’re gonna _love_ this place—Kiku says it’s the best in town! Do you get a lot of fish in Moscow? Sushi is the best! One time Kiku and I ate blowfish and it was so amazing…”  
     

      Russia followed his new friend down the hall as America rambled on about the restaurant and popular shows and the new suit England had just made him purchase. Ivan smiled. It was good to have a friend.  
     

     A comrade.

**Author's Note:**

> *The Cambridge Five: Five British men (who graduated from Cambridge—duh) who, during the Cold War were high-ranking in British government and who, disaffected with the way of life in Britain decided to spy for Russia. One of them was even granted a knighthood and was personally in charge of the Queen’s art collection.  
> *The “No Homo”—I kind of headcanon that America would be the type to say that, like all the time as an annoying joke and most of the other countries would be confused, like “But America—you’re super gay?” And the only ones who would get it would be England and Canada and they would just roll their eyes and be all “Ignore him, he’s an idiot.”  
> *The Space Race: A competition beginning in the mid 1950’s and ending in the early 1970’s between America and the USSR (Russia) for domination in spaceflight and space exploration.  
> *“Married With Children” a popular show from 1987-1997 about shoe salesman Al Bundy, (who hates life) and his family and weird neighbors. Its’ mostly shown now in the middle of the night, and is apparently really popular in Russia—who knew?  
> *Bacon Bowl—Yes…there is an infomercial that advertises a bowl that you layer bacon in to make a bowl…made of bacon…so you can, I don’t know, put more bacon in it? Probably. Seems legit.


End file.
